


The Noble Scoundrel

by keirajo



Series: Random Transformers Works (multiple generations, etc.) [8]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Betrayal, F/M, Hate, Loss of Innocence, Love, Love/Hate, Pain, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-04-23 18:03:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keirajo/pseuds/keirajo
Summary: Starscream may have done a lot of dark things, but he really wanted to fix Cybertron--Windblade realized that far too late in their odd and argumentative relationship.





	1. The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> I have two IDW universe fave pairings, Megatron/Rodimus............and this one, Starscream/Windblade. I still regret the ending of the Windblade/Till All Are One series.............I didn't just want Starscream and Windblade together--I wanted them to work together for Cybertron. And that ending, I didn't like Windblade so much anymore........it felt very petulant to me, even if the series was meant to show Windblade being heroic and triumphant.
> 
> The two chapters of this story take place during the two "Windblade" mini-series and "Till All Are One".

**_ The Noble Scoundrel _ **

 

 

_ Chapter One:  The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions _

 

            If Starscream had any idea how difficult it actually was to “ _rule Cybertron_ ”, he may have thought twice before actually running in those elections against Bumblebee.    And thanks to Rodimus’ ridiculous crew, now he had this foolish femme insisting on being in his face all the time.   Conversely, thanks to Rodimus’ crew, he no longer had to deal with Megatron either.   He knew Megatron would find a way to cheat death—he **_always_** found a way to cheat death, it was what he did………..what he excelled at!  Even with a trial ending in execution, Megatron would find some way to live through it!   Let _Rodimus_ deal with Megatron, now………..and if the _Lost Light’s_ bizarre string of twisted luck held out, maybe Megatron would manage to get himself killed doing something dumb.

            _Like fragging Rodimus._

            **_OH!_**    But wouldn’t _that_ make a great drama?!   Megatron frags Rodimus and drops dead of mysterious circumstances!

            “I’d pay to see _that_ holo-vid,” Starscream chuckled as he leaned back in his office chair and let his optics recycle themselves after reading a dozen reports on Iacon’s stability.

            “If you talk to yourself, you’re going to start looking like a lunatic,” a newly-familiar voice said.

            “If I start talking to _you_ , I’m going to look even crazier— _you do not exist_ ,” the red-and-white mech snapped softly, glaring across his desk at the apparition of Bumblebee standing patiently there.   He had no idea why this apparition or whatever started appearing before him and ruled it as a stress hallucination……his “good intentions” given a form.   He wondered what form his “bad intentions” would wind up taking once they began forming like this.   No, he’d just do as he’d done the past few days so far, he’d ignore this thing, whatever it was.

            Starscream leaned back forwards over his desk and got back to the reports.   Wheeljack’s research was always quite thorough and he appreciated that.   Now, if only Starscream could find a way to motivate more people to go out into Iacon itself and work on fixing it up—instead, they’d all dug into Metroplex (where it had integrated with Iacon) and refused to do anything that took them from their “ _comfort zones_ ”.   And working on fixing a devastated city was taking them from any sort of comfort zone—so, Iacon’s repairs were going so very, _very_ slowly.

            And Windblade was not helping matters any by her focusing on Metroplex and the innate charisma she had drawing everyone else into remaining in their “ _comfort zone_ ” huddle inside of Metroplex!

            “I can’t keep creating disasters just to keep saving everyone from to get them to focus on me, it’s not working because that ridiculous femme just can’t stay out of things,” the former Decepticon Second-in-Command muttered.   He thought about the Enigma of Combination and what he’d just done that had ignited things to an inferno between everyone, all because of Windblade’s accursed desire to dig into the depths of a situation.

            Now that Metroplex’s space-bridge worked, it was going to be a race to win the colonies—a race between Starscream and Windblade.   How did it ever come to this particular point?

            “Just ask her for help.   She’s good with people and you’re not so good with people,” Bumblebee admonished softly.   “You and Windblade should be working _with each other_ , not against each other.   Convince her of your good intentions—you can do things she would hesitate too long on.   She can take care of things that your reputation has tainted you on.”

            “Would you just _shut up_?   I’ll be doing what I can to get people back out onto Cybertron’s surface!”  Starscream snapped, using a servo to point at the apparition, even as his optics were locked on his computer screen.

            “B—boss?”  A new voice said, a bit hesitantly.

            “ _Nnnngh_.  Rattrap, what is it?”  The ruler of Cybertron growled, facepalming himself and hitting save before shutting down his computer.   “Wait—let me guess, Optimus and Windblade wish to gang up on me some more.”

            “Not today, boss.   Wheeljack asked if you wanted to take a tour into Iacon to look at the energy conversion platform location,” the small mech responded.

            “I don’t know why I should bother.   No one, not a single person, will vote for it to be built.   They’re going to want to go into the Badlands and harvest Energon like barbarians, instead of looking for cleaner sources,” Starscream groaned, standing up.   “Those who refuse to learn from history will surely repeat it—and look where harvesting Energon from the planet got us?”

            Starscream met Wheeljack outside of Metroplex’s walls and they began walking through the areas in various states of disrepair.   Mostly Decepticons lived outside of Metroplex’s walls—because the old brands and animosities still drove a rift between Autobots and Decepticons.   There were very few Autobots or NAILs outside of Metroplex’s walls.  And the sudden colors in the skies—the presence of a new atmosphere on Cybertron—was still disorienting to Starscream after all these months.

            “The Velocitronian delegates will be here later—I don’t have a lot of time today, Wheeljack,” Starscream said with a sigh.

            “Yeah, I know.   Windblade’s already roaming around stopping petty squabbles now that Camiens are here—soon, there will be more colonists, won’t there?   And that’s why we need to start reclaiming and rebuilding the cities on Cybertron,” the Autobot scientist and inventor responded, lightly clapping a servo on Starscream’s shoulder.   “And we can’t do that without Energon.”

            They finally reached the location the two of them had been debating for on placing the energy conversion platform.   The two of them started debating more on the size, the shape and the height of the device and building.   Starscream relaxed as he enjoyed scientific debates and love of tinkering with someone else who shared his interests.   This was the way it _should have been_ , not defined by brands.   Differences could be solved by **_debate_** —and that was where Megatron had wound up losing, he had abandoned the ways of debate and settled on violence.   A true shame, as Megatron could debate others into the core of a planet—he was _that good_.

            “A word of advice from someone who considers himself your actual friend, Starscream,” Wheeljack said as they stood there in silence for a few moments.   “I know you want to make a legacy—to make your name known and emerge from Megatron’s shadow.   But stop doing things in the shadows—stop playing these games, because once the people find out what you’re doing, everything you’re trying to achieve by doing the dark things in secret……… _you’ll have lost everything_.”

            Starscream sighed softly.   “There are too many pieces in play to stop them all anymore, Wheeljack.   It’ll play out how it plays out, I have very little control of it anymore.   I’m trying to steer it, but…………well, _it is what it is_ ,” the ruler of Cybertron responded.

            “You _shouldn’t_ have started all that,” the Autobot inventor admonished.   “It’s going to destroy you in the end and I’m sorry about that.”

            “I think I’m going to change my frame armour again,” the former Decepticon’s Second-in-Command said, softly.   “Should I go for a new color or stick to these?”

            Wheeljack gave a deep sigh.   “A new frame style isn’t going to change anything, Starscream,” he said, his voice quiet as he folded his arms across his chest.

            “I kind of want to have my Tetra Jet form back.   I wonder if the specialists can do _that_?”  The mech said, pretending he hadn’t even heard his friend speak.

            “Good luck with the guys from Velocitron, we’ll talk more later,” Wheeljack sighed, patting Starscream’s shoulder and turning to walk away.

            “Wheeljack.   I **_do_** appreciate your words, but it is far too late to turn back now, trust me,” Starscream answered, just before he transformed into his jet mode and flew back to Metroplex.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            And so, Windblade—late to the meeting, which ended in failure anyways—started an argument with Starscream and then went chasing after the delegates from Velocitron.

            “You brought this on yourself, you know,” Bumblebee’s apparition said as the mech started storming towards his quarters.   “Just talk with Windblade— _work together_ on recruiting the colonies.   It doesn’t need to be a race and to split everyone into parties!”

            Starscream jumped out the window and transformed, to go out and fly and try to burn off his anger and annoyance.   He flew far and he flew up into the sky—as far as he could before his engines began to stall and he felt himself plummet.   He just relaxed as he let himself fall, his engines would kick back on momentarily and it would be fine.   It wasn’t as if he hadn’t done this dozens of times.   It was one reason he hated the Earth jet form his alt mode currently had………..his Tetra Jet form could climb into the upper atmosphere and even make it out to the moons!   This _stupid jet form_ , based on the ridiculous Earth vehicles, would stall out at a certain height!

            _Oh_ , there were people down there, too.   They were all babbling worriedly and panicked about the falling Starscream in the sky.   Well, let them think as they would think.   He already knew where fate was leading him—but at least he’d **_tried_** to fix Cybertron.  Maybe he did some dirty and underhanded things, but he did try to fix his home.   He really did.

            Starscream felt his engines restart and did a barrel roll, swooping back up into a normal flying pattern.   Let Windblade do as she liked—her charisma would bring Velocitron to the table on Cybertron, he knew that for certain.   Now it was time to develop out this “ _ruling council_ ” idea a bit further.   To do that, he needed to work harder to make things more even with Windblade—he needed to get to the next colony.  Starscream changed course and went to the streets of Iacon to find the ones he wanted to take with him to the next colony they’d received a welcome response from, Devisiun.

            “Good morning, Silverbolt,” Starscream said, as he landed.

            “Starscream,” the commander of the Aerialbots said with a polite nod.

            “I’d like you to come with me to Devisiun, as representatives of Cybertron,” the ruler of Cybertron asked, smiling winningly at the tall white-colored mech.

            “ _Ngghh_ , I don’t like it, ‘Bolt—ain’t a good thing,” Sky Dive grumbled.

            “Honestly, one wonders why you’d come and ask us—rather than your own cadre of lackeys,” Air Raid said, the tone in his voice distasteful.

            “When you interact with others—you seek to find a _camaraderie_.   The Devisens are, by nature, a pairing or partnership type of society.   While not all of them merge together, a number of them do, so……I feel they would appreciate interacting with those who also share a combining or partnership kind of nature,” Starscream said, smoothly.   “And let’s face it— _you_ guys are the only level-headed Combiner on Cybertron right now.”

            “He does have a point, as far as _that_ goes,” Slingshot chuckled.   “I dunno, ‘Bolt—it might actually be good to get away from Cybertron right now.   Combiners are still in a _hate-but-tolerate_ status right now……I think the Protectobots were right to get away as soon as they could.”

            “Also, I doubt First Aid wants to give up on that being a CMO, even if it is on the _Lost Light_ …….” Fireflight chuckled softly.

            “Would you want us to come in our merged form or separately?”  Silverbolt inquired.   “It _does_ make a difference—there’s a natural aggressiveness inherent in the Combiner form, because of five or more minds attempting to work in unison.”

            “Let’s start out with you guys separated and then I think it would be fitting to show them that you combine,” Starscream answered.   “We want to _win them_ —we don’t want them to walk away like Velocitron did.”

            “You know Windblade’s concocting a scheme to get them back, yeah?”  Fireflight laughed.

            “That’s why we’re going to try a more **_charming_** method for Devisiun while she’s busy trying to get Velocitron back to the beginning council formation,” Starscream laughed in response.

            So, Starscream and the Aerialbots went to the Spacebridge and spoke to Wheeljack about getting the spacebridge online to Devisiun.   The six of them stepped through the glowing portal and were greeted by a dozen or more smaller mechs and femmes, smaller than a Mini-Bot!   They were all in awe and chattered amongst themselves excitedly.

            “I am Starscream, current administrator of Cybertron……..and these are members of an aerial force and guardian force, their team name are _‘Aerialbots’_ and I will allow them to introduce themselves individually—but together they form a Combiner mech named _‘Superion’_ ,” the red-and-white mech said, folding an arm over his chest and dipping a bow from his shoulders.

            The excited chattering became even more exciting when they heard “ _Combiner_ ” from Starscream.

            “We’re Vanquish…….” one small mech, with black, purple and blue colors began.

            “And Fireshot,” the other one, who could nearly be a twin, said.

            Clearly these two were some kind of combined mechs.

            “We can show you……..” Fireshot began.

            “Around Devisiun,” Vanquish finished.

            As they walked, Starscream and his Aerialbot companions saw that pretty much everyone on this planet was like Vanquish and Fireshot—small, but inexorably linked by the Spark.   An odd, odd sense of “ _Spark-bonding_ ” that was not done by choice, but through birth………so, Starscream wondered if they even had the usual kinds of relationships if they were already fully-bonded to another individual.   They listened to the history of Devisiun, how the Titan their ancestors were on didn’t survive—but they’d worked to get some of its alternative functions going (such as the space-bridge).   The planet was part of a binary-star system and that’s why it had the effect on all the Devisens of combination and at-birth Spark-bonding.

            They seemed to be a happy, cheerful sort.   Different from the dour outlook on Cybertron—perhaps fresh faces like these would be a _benefit_ back home.   After Starscream gave a super-abridged version of things and why he’d come, he asked if the Devisens would be willing to send representatives to Cybertron for the new “ _council_ ” they were forming—something that would aid Cybertron and benefit the colonies.  

            The two small mechs began speaking in a quick, warbling language—as well as placing fingers to the audials, signifying they were using communiques to speak with others.   Fireshot and Vanquish said they wouldn’t mind going back to Cybertron to represent Devisiun—but first everyone wanted to see how the Aerialbots combined.   The little mechs of the planet had seemed to gather all around, incredibly curious about it.

            “Never had an audience for this, ‘Bolt,” Sky Dive mumbled, a little nervously.

            “Just remember, we’re only going to stand there and look pretty,” Silverbolt chuckled warmly.

            The Aerialbots all combined into Superion and stood massively tall above all the tiny Devisens.   The little mechs were in utter awe of the giant Combiner.  Then Superion showed off by flexing and doing some action poses, which had the Devisens applauding and cheering with joy.

            Starscream knew their Sparks had been won over and headed back to Cybertron with his victory and his new allies.   He had been showing Fireshot and Vanquish around the office building where the council room was—they excitedly climbed into the chairs and looked at the huge table—and just as he was explaining to them what they hoped to do with a council formed of colony members, Windblade came in with Knock Out and Moonracer.

            The look on her faceplate assured Starscream that he quite possibly won _this match_.

            After introducing the Devisens to Windblade and the delegates from Velocitron, having everyone sign the documents—Windblade took him aside and began to chew him out for going to Devisiun on his own.   Starscream calmly responded that he had only done so because she went to Velocitron, which erupted into them griping about it being a game and it shouldn’t be.

            “You know nothing about Cybertron and I wish you’d stop thinking you did,” Starscream silenced the argument with his final words, after they agreed they’d both go to Eukaris tomorrow—TOGETHER.   “You’ve spoken to a handful of people from a bar and think they’ve given you all the history you need to know.  And don’t think I haven’t noticed you plotting with Rattrap behind my back, either.   You know nothing about me or about Cybertron and _you do not know what is best for it_!”   The ruler of Cybertron growled fiercely.

            “ _And you only care about your own image!_    If we could just actually work together on this……!”  Windblade cried in exasperation.

            Rattrap tried to separate them and got yelled at by the both of them, before the two parted ways to wait until tomorrow.   He did give Windblade some roundabout advice.

            Not that it had helped.   Eukaris was stressful all around…………..Windblade had tried to talk to the mad Titan, Chela, and Starscream had killed Chela.   And saved her life.   Windblade didn’t want to even think that she wanted to be thankful to Starscream for saving her life—she was angry and very, _very_ sad at what had happened on Eukaris.   And Starscream just treated it as another normal day—making Windblade wonder in whose life was **_murdering_** another being just “ _another normal day_ ”.

            The day after that was Tempo—or as they came to find out, _Carcer_ —and the encounter with Elita One had them all very much on edge.   Starscream’s smooth words (and subtle lying) did not go over well with the mechs and femmes of Carcer, where Windblade’s honesty was respected.   However, it did not mean Elita One would actually join with Cybertron, yet.

            Leaving all tensions at a breaking point.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            The day after the trip to Tempo—Carcer—all tensions had finally been stretched to their very limit.   Elita One had promised to give her their answer soon, until then—Starscream and Windblade had reached their stress limit with one another.

            And it all began when she had stormed into his office, where he’d been working on more of the details of Iacon’s reconstruction, plus the energy conversion platform.   From the very second she’d entered, she began angry-crying about Chela’s loss again.   Her EM field was whipping about all over the place and it was affecting Starscream in _many_ ways.

            “And what do you want me to do about something that’s already been done?”   Starscream snapped, trying very hard to pay attention to the report in front of him and not the emotional femme on the other side of his desk.

            “ _I didn’t want you to kill! **Not in my name!**    Not to save me!_”  Windblade wailed, slamming her palms down onto the desk, tears leaking from her optics and a few drops splashing in the space between her servos.   “You’re a _monster_!   Why did Cybertron ever elect you?!”   She cried, angrily.

            Starscream grunted and shoved his chair back away from the desk.   “ _Congratulations_.   You have finally pissed me off to the point of no return,” he said, quietly, rising to his pedes.   “You have not tried to ever understand what has happened here on Cybertron.   You’ve heard _‘war’_ and you’ve got it in your head of some overglorified infinite days of combat— _you don’t know what it was like_.   You don’t know what the war has done to us— _to any of us_!   You’re so willing to listen to the woes of a handful of people and believe you have a full understanding of the situation that this planet is in!”   He growled, slamming his palms down on his desk and leaning over it to stare directly into her optics.

            “Then give me history books!   Let me _learn_ about it—then I can prove just how wrong it is that _you’re_ in charge here!”   She snapped back, lips curling back from her normal, flattened dentae.

            “Any student of history knows it was written by the winners—and supposedly the war was declared _won by the Autobots_.   And any conclusive history of the war will tout the heroic Autobots defeated the evil Decepticons,” Starscream said, quietly and angrily.   “And besides, you know you can look that up any damn time you please.   So, just quit it with this indignant fury thing, would you?”   He stood up straight and walked over to the large window to look out over the limited view he could see of Metroplex, Iacon and Cybertron.

            “Don’t walk away from me!”   Windblade growled, stomping around the desk and coming to a halt next to the taller mech.

            “Walk away?   I went two steps and turned around to look out the window!”   Starscream groaned.   “Look, you can just _stop_ antagonizing me.  I don’t feel like arguing with you or comforting you—isn’t that what you have Chromia for?”  He muttered, placing a servo to the super-strong glass and gazing out it intently, trying to ignore the passionate young femme beside him—before he did something **_everyone_** would regret.

            “Why won’t you just…………open up and………..” the young femme from Caminus began.

            “I _can’t_ make myself vulnerable, ever again.   So don’t ask such ridiculous questions,” the former Decepticon Second-in-Command responded, looking down at her.

            They gazed into each other’s optics for a long time.   To Starscream, it felt like Windblade was searching for answers within his own optics—and all he saw was an innocent young femme who took the universe at face value.   It was in its own way, both vivacious and tragic.   One day, _that gaze_ would no longer look innocent.   The longer Windblade would be here on Cybertron, the more corrupted she’d become by its tragedy and darkness.

            Starscream was the first one to make a move, he raised a servo and brushed his knuckles lightly over the side of the young femme’s faceplate.   He remembered being this young, once.   He may have been constructed cold, but being “ _new_ ” was the same as being “ _young_ ”—and innocence like this **_never_** lasts long.   Windblade should’ve stayed on Caminus—perhaps then she could keep her innocence for much longer.

            Suddenly he became aware of the young femme in front of him incycling and exventing rapidly.   Her field suddenly rippled with longing and desperation.

            _‘And this is the very worst way for her to lose that innocence,’_ Starscream thought, a bit of sadness seeping into his Spark.   _‘I can’t possibly do the same to her as Megatron once did to me………it’s too tragic.’_

            As soon as one of Windblade’s servos came up to cup the one he was stroking her with, Starscream knew he **_lost_** this battle.   What was he doing?   Why was he intrigued by such a young and energetic femme?

            _‘And yet………….I’m going to do exactly what Megatron did to me,’_ he sighed to himself.

            Strascream pulled on the curtains and closed up the view, lowering them both to the floor.

            “ _Do not regret this_.   No matter what happens, remember that this is what _you_ wanted,” Starscream said, quietly, he leaned over her slender form and bent to kiss her neck-cabling first.

            “I—I won’t………..” Windblade panted softly.   She reached up and grabbed the back of his neck with one servo and his shoulder with her other.   The femme made a soft mewling sound as Starscream’s sharpened incisor dentae scraped over her intake and nipped lightly.

            “Tell me you’re _not_ sealed,” Starscream whispered, softly.   “Let me at least have that much hope of not hurting you.”

            “I’m…………not……….. ** _I_** ………..” Windblade murmured, looking up into his faceplate and seeing a deep look of concern in the Decepticon’s features.   “I—I don’t have a lot of experience, though…….” she added, her gaze slipping away.   A deep moan escaped her vocalizer as Starscream’s servos caressed in some very sensitive areas of her frame.

            “If it means anything, I don’t have a lot of _good_ experiences myself,” Starscream said, a light chuckle in the tone of his voice.   “But I have _some_ experience……..that is something that I can say for certain.   No regrets, right?”   He asked, gazing down into her optics.

            “ _No regrets_ ,” Windblade answered, smiling up at him.

            They took the plunge, together.


	2. Never Give Up What It Is You Want To Hold Dear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream and Windblade have a public relationship and a private relationship, both are very different and neither of them can seem to bring themselves to each other the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the second half of this story focused on the plot in the "Till All Are One" comics, the story was much tighter and had fewer scenes for me to adapt original scenes around. So, you may encounter familiar dialogue here and there as the comic scenes are integrated into the original scenes from my own brain. All the original dialogue from the comics belongs to IDW, the editor and the writer.

_ Chapter Two:   Never Give Up What It Is You Want To Hold Dear _

 

            It had become some kind of **_thing_** for them.   Finding moments, sneaking around to find places where they could be alone together.   Sometimes it was even in Starscream’s own berth—he was very rigid about keeping his own personal sleeping area from being spied upon.   It was a whirlwind sweeping towards tragedy for them both—snapping at each other in public and fragging each other in private.

            “ _Nnngh_ , but when has this been any different than any other relationship I’ve ever had?   I’m apparently _very good_ at picking _very bad_ relationships,” Starscream muttered, only halfway paying attention to the report on his desk.

            “Why do you think this relationship is a bad one?   I think you and Windblade look very good together,” his familiar companion’s voice said to him with a light chuckle.

            “ _Look_ good?   Sure, we **_look perfect_** together,” the ruler of Cybertron said, glancing up at his apparition of Bumblebee that’d been plaguing him for months now.   “But, trust me, it’s destined to end in tragedy.   No matter what she’s like in the berth, she’s working like a madfemme to have me impeached and jailed for all eternity.   She’s like everyone else—in it for the physical and could care less about my future.”

            “Primus, Starscream—that’s _so callous_ of you!   I don’t think Windblade’s like that at all!”   Bumblebee snapped, tapping that cane of his on the floor and glared at the colorful Decepticon with annoyance.

            Starscream gazed over at the apparition—at first with a bit of anger and then with mere resignation.   Bumblebee—or _whatever_ this piece of his imagination was—clearly couldn’t see it.   The changes in Windblade over the months.   But _Starscream_ saw it, that innocence in her optics had faded………..at first slowly, but then more rapidly.   Her optics were nearly as hard and determined as her femme companion’s, Chromia.   Her charisma and beauty would win everyone over and…………it would all be over soon enough.   Starscream would claw at keeping his position, but he knew he was already destined to lose it.

            Like everything else he thought might work out in his life at one point, being in the top leadership position of Cybertron would end the same way everything else did.   It was a good thing the aerial mech was used to be hated by the masses.    Starscream just hoped he could be in this position a bit longer—to get the energy conversion platform built and up-and-running.   He had finally made some in-roads on that project and there was a general base being built on the further edge of Iacon for it.   Wheeljack had been excited to finally get the approval on the project.

            “Look, if you would just stop messing around in the darkness of the corridors and alleyways, you could make better progress around here without……….” Bumblebee said, walking around the desk to stand next to Starscream’s chair.

            The ruler of Cybertron sighed and leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nasal ridge to stave off a processor ache.   “We can’t know for sure,” he said softly.   “If those rumours are true…….” Starscream sighed.

            “You’re _obsessing_ , Starscream.   Are you really willing to risk this much, to cause this much suffering, just to prove someone’s already dead when you shot him yourself?”   The apparition of the short, yellow-colored Autobot sighed.

            Starscream glared at his imaginary companion.   Not that anything Bumblebee said wasn’t true, he shot Swindle, but that didn’t necessarily mean the mech was dead.   Swindle was more of a rat than Rattrap was and had a way of getting out of nearly every situation.   The Combaticons were dangerous and _not_ just because they were Decepticons, but because they thrived on the war—Onslaught himself was genius on Starscream’s own level and that made him more dangerous, because he wasn’t going to use his keen intelligence to save Cybertron, but to _conquer_ it.

            And that came to be proven over the next week—as a rogue Badgeless shot an unarmed citizen and it was shown on television.   Starscream was absolutely certain it was no one he had hired, therefore someone had taken some of the Badgeless equipment and uniforms (an exo-armour created solely so that identities of the peacekeeping force could be kept secret for their safety and the safety of any they were bonded to) to perform the deed solely for starting the riots.

            Rallying behind the ridiculous phrase “ _Swindle lives!_ ”, no less—what was even the point of it, when from the crowd footage Starscream had seen, most of them quite possibly didn’t even know who Swindle was!?

            “Onslaught’s behind this,” Starscream mumbled, standing in front of the window of his office and watched the agitated crowd draw closer to the council building, which was called “ _The Spire_ ”.   “ _Hmmm_.   An angry mob.   How cliché.”

            “Your biggest concern is that your rioting citizens don’t have enough panache?”  Bumblebee graoned.   “The question you need to be asking is why they’re down there at all, Starscream.”

            “ _I know_ ,” the ruler of Cybertron mumbled, placing a servo against the window.   He made the statement vague, so his constant appartion of a companion could interpret it how he liked.   He knew exactly why they were down there.   And he knew exactly who was riling them up.   He left the window and walked back to the chair at his desk.   He grumbled a few more complaints to Bumblebee and then the door flew open and Windblade stormed through, her field riled with just as much confusion as anger.

            “ _Starscream!!!_ ”   The femme from Caminus snapped.

            “See?”  Starscream murmured, giving a last glance at Bumblebee before turning his head to the door.

            “See _what_?”  Windblade growled sharply.

            “ _Nothing_ ,” Starscream answered with a shrug.  “What can I do for you, Windblade?   By my chronometer, I’ve got about eighty minutes before today’s council meeting,” the colorful Decepticon said, putting a bored tone in his voice.

            She stalked over to the desk, looking like a beautiful flame—burning so intensely with her youthful passion and righteous anger.   Windblade slammed her servos to the desk, leaning over it to stare directly into Starscream’s optics—a fiercely-glowing blue meeting a dim, older crimson.

            “Do for _me_?   People are rioting in the streets, Starscream!”  The red-blue-black colored femme snapped fiercely.   “We _warned_ you the Badgeless were going too far.   We _tried_ to curtail this, but you’re so focused on clinging to your own power that _you wouldn’t listen_!”   She continued, leaning farther and farther over the desk.

            “ _Enough_!”  Starscream growled, half-standing to shove himself up close to her, their faces mere inches away from one another.  “You think you know this world because you slapped an Autobot symbol on your chestplate and made friends in a bar?   Because you saw the last dying gasps of our war?”  The former Decepticon Second-in-Command snarled, pushing himself closer.

            To his surprise, she pulled away, standing up straight.

            “I think power is liquid and the more tightly you clutch it, the less you really hold,” she answered, her tone backing down into a more even and calm state.

            It was too bad, really.   He never could goad her into a really passionate rage-fragging mood.   Starscream stood up straight and gave a sigh, walking around to the other side of the desk and stopping a few feet from her.   He glanced at Bumblebee’s apparition, who was on Windblade’s other side, which tilted his head and shrugged at him.

            “Whatever’s really happening, it affects us all,” Windblade said, looking Starscream over curiously, as she noted his gaze went past her.   “If you just told us what was going on, _trusted us for once_ , we could help.”

            Starscream leaned on the edge of desk and sighed again.   “ _Hmm_.  **_Trusted you_**?”  He echoed, his thoughts drifting back to everyone he ever made an attempt to trust—who turned around and stabbed him in the back, sometimes even literally.  “I always knew you were naïve, but I never thought of you as _stupid_ ……..not until now,” the Decepticon murmured, shaking his head sadly.   “Now, do you have a way to waste my next hour that doesn’t involve yelling at me—or will you let me get back to the energy conversion platform project?”  He asked, the tone in his voice only halfway towards a goad.

            Her _field_ said it, even if she couldn’t make herself say it.

            “Come on, away from the window and any flier’s optics that could peer in,” Starscream said in a much softer tone as he walked over and code-locked the door, then sat down on the comfortable large couch in the far corner of the room.

            “This is _ridiculous_ ………..why am I even doing this with you?”  Windblade complained as she stood in front of Starscream.   He leaned forwards and brushed his lips over her abdomen, tracing her biolights with lips and glossa.   His servos slid gently over her aft and then swept up slowly, teasingly, until they reached the moorings of her alt-mode’s cockpit piece.   She gave a soft whimper as she felt him cycle light charge into his fingertips as he stroked her seams tenderly.   “ _Why_ …….why do I…….really want to………..?”  She whispered, the tone in her voice both longing and very, _very_ sad.

            Starscream continued to kiss her smooth abdomen as his fingers reached the edges of the small shield fins around the cockpit, which made a silhouette of crossed blades across the small of her back, when she was viewed from the front.   Windblade tossed her head back, mewling softly and clamping her servos over her mouth with embarrassment.   She knew that as an aerial mech, Starscream knew exactly how wing-pieces were very sensitive for fliers.    She was even more embarrassed when her array paneling snapped open and her femme-thin, lightly-ridged spike pressurized against Starscream’s chin and neck-cabling.

            “There’s a quaint little saying on Earth—well, there are many and some seem to counteract each other—but this particular one is that _‘opposites attract’_ ,” Starscream murmured, dipping his head so that he could flick his glossa over the leaking tip of her spike.   “I honestly cannot think of anyone who could _possibly_ be more opposite than us, my dear,” he chuckled, taking the spike into his mouth and moving on it teasingly—making his sucking sounds as loud and as obnoxious as possible, to make her embarrassment and ultimate arousal fly even higher.

            Windblade trembled as his servos held her firm before him, gripping the shield fins gently, her mewling and whimpering leaking out from around the servos over her mouth.    She couldn’t stand much more of this—Starscream was really, _really_ good at all aspects of interfacing.   The young femme screamed into her servos as she went up on the tips of her pedes, her back arching and making her spike shove further down Starscream’s intake with the movement—then she overloaded, pink and pale yellow charges shooting across her frame as the Decepticon swallowed vigorously when her transfluid shot into his mouth.

            Even before she could recover any from the short-and-vigorous overload, Starscream already had a couple digits pushed up into her wet valve and she went to the tips of her pedes again, almost going into another small overload right then.   Starscream looked upwards at her arching body and felt the longing and lust flowing through her field—he carefully kept her field wrapped up with his, cherishing the youthful energy of the femme from Caminus.   He wouldn’t let her field leak out so just anyone could feel it— _these moments belonged to **him** only_.   She really was beautiful and precious—and if only she had come into his life before he had thrown so much of himself away to the winds of fate.

            “Here, come on.   Sit in my lap so I can give you some more of this foreplay that you enjoy so much,” Starscream chuckled, pulling his digits out of her valve.   She looked down at him, confusion on her face and in her optics.   “ _Turn. **Sit**._   Let me play with you some more, we still have most of an hour and there’s a washrack in the office, you know that.”

            Her optic orbs cycled and she focused down on him, her pale-grey faceplate flaring bright pink with her embarrassment.   “ ** _Oh_** _.  Um, **wait**.   I’m_…….” she stammered softly.

            “Windblade, your field tells me you need more—don’t deny what it is that you want,” Starscream said, firmly, his tone serious as he looked up at her and pulled one of her servos to his lips, brushing gently over her knuckle-joints.

            For a moment, she didn’t just look embarrassed, she looked a little scared.   But that was normal for the young and the naïve like her.   Embarrassed by her own sexuality—especially when she wanted to frag with someone who should be absolutely off-limits.   Then she incycled a deep breath, turned around and sat down in Starscream’s lap, spreading her legs and draping them over the outside of his thighs.    Windblade leaned against him as his servos came around her waist, his fingertips playing with light charge again as they swept up to her chestplate, to the raised and rounded areas on her upper chest.   His servos splayed over the mounds, cupping them and squeezing with a little pressure, as charge danced from his fingertips along her armour-plating.

            Windblade tossed her head back, against one of the pillar pieces of Starscream’s shoulder, whimpering softly with pleasure as she felt a frustrating tightening in her valve.   Her spike was pressurizing to full again, filling with transfluid and giving her a light throbbing need for release.   Meanwhile, as the Decepticon’s servos caressed the mounds of her chestplating so teasingly, his lips and fangs were lightly playing along the edges of one of her wings.

 

**/pleaseWANTgiveMOREpleasehurry\**

 

            Starscream smiled as he kept her EM field carefully captured within his own field.   She was _so_ innocently honest with her emotions in her field.   It had been a long time since he’d allowed his own field to show the honesty of the emotions he felt within him.   If anything, _this_ was one thing he’d learned from Megatron that was worthwhile—keeping your emotions out of your field, especially during combat and anything like that, was enviable.   And keeping a tight hold on a _captive’s_ EM field with your own was another thing Megatron taught him that had proven infinitely useful, _especially now_.

            The colorful Decepticon gently slid one servo down her smooth abdomen, letting charge play teasingly over her armour and derma.   As he went down to her groin area, he was very careful to avoid touching the quivering and leaking spike, instead he slid three digits up into her wet valve.   _She was so hot and soft inside!_    Windblade stiffened and arched back against Starscream, whimpering softly.   He felt her valve tighten around his digits, clamping lightly and relaxing, then repeating the eager-and-arousing cycle over and over again.

            “You really _are_ a beautiful young one,” Starscream sighed, nuzzling her neck-cabling fondly and stroking with his glossa.   He was very careful not to leave any very visible marks on her, not right now at any rate.

            He let charge ripple from his fingertips as he splayed his digits wide inside her wet interior—letting her nodes greedily absorb the light charges, driving her closer and closer to that next fulfilling overload.    She whimpered and mewled softly, her body quaking eagerly and she tried to rock her hips a little against his servo.   Starscream played with her a little more like this, before pulling his servo away from her valve and almost felt a little sorry when he heard her staggering little cry of loss—she really had been very close.

            “I know you think my digits are quite skilled, but I think you’d prefer my spike— _right_?”  Starscream murmured, licking gently at her neck-cabling.

            Windblade turned around and faced him.   “I hate you so much, but I also……….” she whispered, gazing down into his optics with such sadness in hers.

            “ _Mmmm_.   I know, my dear.  Trust me, _I do know_ ,” Starscream responded with a fond chuckle and patted her aft with one servo as the other rested lightly on her hip.   He opened his spike panel and his thick, deeply ridged spike pressurized instantly.   They gazed at each other for what seemed like a very long moment, before Windblade gently lowered her body and let her valve take in Starscream’s spike, all the way to the rootplating.   Then they gazed at each other again for another long moment.   “ ** _I know_** ,” Starscream said, again, very softly, as he planted a kiss on the clear blue stone set into the center of her forehead.

            It was in her field, even if she couldn’t bring herself to say it.   Windblade wrapped her slender digits around the two pillars of Starscream’s shoulders and collar-fairing, then she began to raise and lower her hips—at first slowly, then as her charge began building up once more, her riding began to go faster.   She could feel the deep ridges of Starscream’s spike tug against the mesh of her walls and the friction of her movement created more charge deep inside of her—all of her nodes were gorging out on all the charge building from their interfacing.

            Starscream wished he could be honest and return that buried feeling in her field, but if he lowered his defenses _ever again_ to anyone, he would lose the last small bit of himself that still remained.   It was better, right now and for the future, if what was between them was merely physical need and desire.   They _shouldn’t_ bring emotions into it.   He reached up and pulled her head down, kissing her as her hips bucked against him so frantically and her thin spike spurted transfluid all over his abdomen.   She couldn’t arch her back when they kissed, but her hips ground down on him so hard, like she wanted to merge eternally with him, as overload took them both in unison………….pale yellow and pink lightning flashed and merged with red and blue across both of their frames.

 

**/WANTloveNEEDloveWANT\**

 

            Starscream kept those emotions of Windblade’s rippling field held tight within the confines of his own.   He cherished the fact that after so many millennia someone actually loved him—even if that love could never, ever be admitted out loud.

            _That was what was best for them both_.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            Well, that was that…………wasn’t it?   Everything was going to be destroyed anyways and there was no way to stop it.   The undead Titan army that Sentinel Prime had raised would ensure Cybertron’s doom.   Elita-One’s last words echoed to him in his office as he paced.

 

            _“You can die,” she said, no emotion in her voice whatsoever.  “I can die.  The galaxy itself can burn in flame and darkness, but Carcer will **never** transform.”_

            So, Starscream had called for everyone to regroup at the Spire.  He stopped to look at Bumblebee’s consistent apparition in his life on his way out.

            “The one time I need— _truly need_ —everyone to fall in line, the only person who matters doesn’t,” he sighed, looking down at his imaginary companion.

            Bumblebee looked up at him, concern on his faceplate.   “What are you going to tell them?”   He asked, leaning on his cane.

            “Whatever it takes,” he murmured, giving a polite little wave as he left for the main council chambers.   He sat down at his place in the room and looked down at all the other councilors.   “I know everyone is tired.   I know you’ve given this your all and I appreciate that,” Starscream said, his charisma showing through as he honestly was glad that everyone had worked so hard.   “But it just isn’t enough.”

            Everyone began chattering and Starscream could feel the maelstrom of their EM fields in the room—everyone was afraid to die, of course.   He kept calm and kept his own field calm, as well.  He explained the tactical situation to them and what Elita-One’s decision was.   He learned many things from Megatron over all the time he’d been in the Decepticons with his powerful leader, his ruthless lover and his brilliant teacher.   Cybertronians used their EM fields without thinking much about them anymore and mostly they tended to leak their emotions out all the time.   But if one person managed to keep a strong and powerful field there as a wall to prop themselves all against—you could try to calm and manage a situation just by having a steady EM field.

            “I’ve ordered Ironhide to begin evacuations,” Starscream said, calmly.   “Any ship out of ammo needs to start shuttling people off-world immediately.”

            “If they won’t let Carcer help us, we need to find another way,” Windblade said, firmly.   A part of her admired what Starscream was doing right now—with his voice and field.   So, she was going to suggest something that might strain relations with the mechs and femmes of Carcer, but Starscream should admire its guile.   “Elita doesn’t want to help us, but maybe Carcer does.   Titans are their own beings—they aren’t tools to obey whomever is around them.”

            Starscream gazed down at her with surprise and then a sly smile curved his lips as he folded his arms over his chest.   “When did _you_ get to be so ruthless?”  He chuckled softly.

            “I’ve given up _everything_ for this world,” Windblade snapped back, her frustration at the situation rippling in her field around her.   “Now _she_ can, too.”

            The other councilors began erupting into debates, but it was clear that Windblade was going to get her way with this dangerous mission.

            “Who did you have in mind?”   Starscream chuckled deviously, as she outlined her plan to get aboard Carcer and speak to the Titan directly.   She needed a strike team to do so—to protect her as she went to the Titan’s brain module.    After she named the team she wanted and got them assembled in the council chambers.   “Well, I think you’ll probably all die,” the Decepticon laughed with good humour.   “But we’ll definitely _all die_ if you fail.   So…….. _they’re perfect_.”

            No truer words were spoken, but when all had been said and done—there was one very important loss.   And while victory had been achieved for Cybertron—the dark, deep secret that those of Carcer had kept for so long came to the surface.

            Vigilem and his cruel master, Liege Maximo.

            And Windblade’s merger with Carcer had been the key to free Liege Maximo from inside the depths of Carcer’s own brain.   And Windblade, corrupted by Vigilem’s own program, had fallen and was everything but actually dead now.

            Everything had changed in an instant.   And Starscream, while he felt the loss very deeply, he couldn’t even afford to show how attached he’d become to the young femme from Caminus.   He had plenty to do in the aftermath of the battle with the undead Titans and the information to come pouring out after that.

            But the fact that Carcer appeared to come to Cybertron and transform to fight for Cybertron (even though it had been Windblade controlling the Titan), all of that made Elita-One instantly popular with everyone on Cybertron and simply added more to chip away at Starscream’s already precarious situation on Cybertron.   He had been long fighting the elections that Windblade had been pressing for, but now it looked like he’d have to make sure they’d happen or else he’d become labelled as the dictator that all his detractors claimed he was.

            All of his other plans that had begun developing, including asking the Fate Spinner (and mnemosurgeon) from Eukaris, Airachnid, to help him “ _tame_ ” the Combaticons to use as his own personal guard.   That was a purely political move—because for someone as outspoken against Starscream as Onslaught had been, now working directly for him (supposedly _happily_ ) was a good move to make.   And Blast Off got what he always wanted, a perfect sparkmate out of Onslaught.   Everyone wins with **_that_** move.

            He was walking down the hallways of the medical ward, after checking up on the recovering Onslaught and his attention was gotten by one of the medics—who looked like a so much younger version of the cranky old Autobot, Ratchet.   Who brought him to Windblade’s room, saying that there was something he really needed to see.

            Starscream stopped in the doorway.   “ _No_ ,” he murmured, softly.   He simply couldn’t go in the room and look at her—with her fire and passion snuffed out.

            “Sir?”   The medic inquired, looking at him with bewilderment.

            “You said this was a matter of _life-and-death_ ,” Starscream snapped, only stepping just inside the doorframe and going no further.  “Delegate Windblade is already brain-dead, there’s nothing I can do.”

            “I’m sorry, Lord Starscream, but you’re wrong,” the young medic said, his voice desperate for Starscream’s full attention on his report.   “In fact, we’re registering too much activity in Windblade’s brain.   There appears to be two different patterns of energy, both trying to express themselves at the same time.”

            Starscream glanced over at the slab, the still and quiet frame of the femme he **_lo_** —no, he could never afford to admit that either.   _She was the femme who stood athwart him at every turn_.

            “But she isn’t even moving,” the ruler of Cybertron sighed, reaching up to rub the bridge of his nasal ridge soothingly.

            “Because she’s basically in _stasis lock_ ,” the young medic continued.  “Her body can’t function with that much conflicting information.”

            “ _Vigilem_ ,” Starscream murmured.  “He must have downloaded his own mind into Windblade’s when Elita destroyed Carcer’s brain module.”

            “That’s what I think, too,” the medic said, anxiously.   “But there’s not enough difference between a Titan’s brain pattern and a Camien’s for me to separate them………..and her mind is degrading under the strain.”   He began to explain if they could just get a mnemosurgeon to come in and take a look—they’d have the specialized skills to be able to separate them.

            Starscream fought back the very moment the young medic said that.   _Mnemosurgery_.   That’s what they did to Megatron and _destroyed_ him, everything that he was!   He may not like Airachnid much as an individual person or what she did or how she did it, but he used her skills to manipulate Onslaught and the Combaticons in the same way that the Senate had done to Megatron.   But he didn’t actually care about the Combaticons like he did……. ** _no._**    He’d _rather_ see Windblade die with her heroic sacrifice than to have her mind messed with by any kind of mnemosurgeon, even a good-and-kind one!

            Of course, he _couldn’t_ say it exactly like that, or else everyone else would know how he felt about her, so he made his arguments seem very selfish and self-centered, then stormed out of the room.   And then, out in the hallway, he began arguing with the very last person he should be arguing with—the apparition of Bumblebee that had been clinging to him for so long now.

            “If it doesn’t bother you, _why_ do you keep bringing that up?”   Bumblebee snapped, walking along beside the taller Decepticon.

            “Bring what up?”   Starscream growled, not even noticing a single person in the hallway except for his ghostly companion.  

            “What happened to Windblade,” the small yellow Autobot responded, pacing in front of the colorful Decepticon.  “What she would do or think.   If it all meant _nothing_ to you, you wouldn’t think about it half so much!”   He said, sharply.

            “Don’t be coy, Bumblebee, it _doesn’t_ suit you,” Starscream grumbled, softly.

            “ _Fine_.   Let’s cut the scrap!”   Bumblebee cried, pounding his cane on the floor and stopping in front of Starscream.  “How long are you going to cling to this worn-out, narcissistic mask?   _Starscream the Ruthless.   The Grand Schemer._    You haven’t been that— _just that_ —for a long time now!   People _expect_ things of you, because they _believe_ in you.   And _that_ should be something you should be proud of, not something you’re determined to destroy!”   The little yellow Autobot yelled, pointing his cane up at Starscream and almost tapping him on the chest—taking in the taller mech’s shocked look.   “Why is it so important for you to be _alone_?!”   He cried with anxiousness in his voice.

            _Why?_    Because………there was no way Bumblebee could understand everything that happened to him in his long life.   All those Autobots always had it rather good in comparison—and especially those who were actually _Forged_!   There was no way Bumblebee could even hope to understand, Starscream couldn’t even put it all into words…………the loss of Megatron, his subsequent hatred and fear of Megatron.    The bond he had with Skywarp and Thundercracker………..the bond he broke himself, rather than let them see how much Megatron had broken him after Megatron had completely become broken!

            “ _Because I am alone_!   Because the nanosecond I _forgot_ that, life……….most often in the shape of _Megatron_ ……..beat the truth back into me!” Starscream began.   “ _Literally_!!   And then there’s………!”

            That was when Starscream saw people down the hallway—the medics and the patients all stopped and looked at him.   He stopped and straightened up, rubbing his temples soothingly and started walking in the opposite direction of everyone else.

            “I _never_ asked to become something I’m not.   Something I can _never_ be,” the former Decepticon Second-in Command sighed, softly—sadness deep in the tone of his vocalizer.   “I _never_ asked for you to be here.   If my behavior is so offensive, why don’t you just leave?”  He snapped, quietly.   As he approached a corridor junction and everything was quiet around him.   “Bumblebee?”   He whispered, looking back and seeing nothing.   Nothing all around him whatsoever.   “See?  I told you,” he said, very quietly.

            Days passed, as Starscream got back to his daily duties.   And he was surprised at how alone he was without the apparition of Bumblebee—if it really _was_ his good intentions made manifest—around him.   Did that mean he no longer had _any good intentions_?   Was life really this quiet without people around him—even Rattrap seemed to have disappeared for the most part.

            The isolation really got to him, because he actually broached the question about Windblade’s precarious situation to Airachnid.   She basically told him that someone would have to go into the femme’s mind and kill the invading mind quickly or else all three patterns would die.   That was what Starscream figured it was all about, to be honest.

            That night, as he laid in his berth, staring at the ceiling—he just started talking, as he always did, expecting Bumblebee to answer him.   He just couldn’t seem to stop himself from doing it anymore—he couldn’t bear feeling so isolated, so he wanted to pretend his imaginary companion was still there.

            “Just so you know, I only asked out of curiosity,” Starscream said, simply, motioning absently with his servos in the darkness of the room.   He mumbled some more things about how he didn’t care about Windblade and that she came to Cybertron bearing the Autobot brand………..and how the Camiens worship the Prime Lineage and so forth.

            “I don’t need her,” he muttered, turning to his side and dimming his optics as he felt a deep, deep pain in his Spark.   “I don’t need you and I don’t need anyone at all.”

            There was no answer, but the emptiness and quiet of the dark room.

            “ _I hate you, ‘Bee_ ,” Starscream whispered, dimming his optics and going into recharge.

            He didn’t hear the soft voice or see the presence suddenly beside his berth.

            “I know,” Bumblebee’s apparition responded, reaching out as if to pat Starscream consolingly on the head.

 

*      *      *      *      *

 

            Starscream was a bit worried when he saw the barren landscape— _battle-scarred and damaged_ —inside of Windblade’s mind.   It brought back a lot of bad memories of the war.   But he had come here with determination to save her.

            “Don’t worry, the cavalry’s here,” he said, blasting the mental apparition of Vigilem in the back.

            “Starscream?”   Windblade’s apparition gasped.   “How did you……..?” She trailed off, then the reality of the situation overcame her surprise.   “ _You idiot_!!!”   She yelled.

            There was no such things as EM fields in here, so he couldn’t tell what her true emotions were in the mental landscape.   As far as he knew and understood, she was actually very angry with him and not even the tiniest bit grateful for his assistance.

            “I came here to help you, you ungrateful little………….. **nnngh**!”  Starscream snarled, backing into a defensive stance as Vigilem got up.   “You need to expel his brain pattern!”

            “I’m not strong enough and I’ve had decades of mental training!”   Windblade snapped back, trying to get up and move between Vigilem and Starscream.   “You’re _not_ helping me by being here, you’re just giving him….. _aaagh_!”   She gasped as Vigilem punched her back out of the way.

            “I believe she was going to say, you’re just giving me _another way out_ ,” Vigilem laughed, his voice mocking Starscream to the core.

            “You wouldn’t be the first person to underestimate me, you flying tin can,” Starscream said in an even voice, staring up at the taller mech.

            “I’m sure that I’m not.   Who were the others?”  Vigilem chuckled deviously.   “And which one do you fear the most?”   He said, morphing his form into the very one Starscream feared.

            The one that Starscream had admired, as a student…………that he’d loved as a berthmate………that he’d feared as one abused by the monster that Megatron had eventually become.

            Starscream took a step back as the apparition of Megatron began to charge up his fusion cannon—and then everything changed.   Suddenly they were in the wreckage of Kaon.   Vigilem, still wearing Megatron’s form, was tearing away each version of his frame he ever had—that meant they were now in his mind and not in Windblade’s anymore.   Then maybe the futile effort had actually borne fruit—Windblade should be free to reclaim her own mind and _that should be that_.   Starscream’s time was going to end anyways, _at least he did it to save her_ ………….

            ………… ** _to save the one person he had ever, probably, truly loved in any way_**.

            Finally, Vigilem had torn him down to the Spark-core.  The enemy rose to his pedes, still cloaked in Megatron’s form, and charged up the fusion cannon for one final blow.   But suddenly something was cradling his Spark—as if it were more precious than anything else in the universe.  He was a mere Spark-core now and Windblade was the one who had come into his mind and saved him.   If only he could……….but **_no_** , Vigilem was already beginning to rewrite his very program—soon enough, this frame would no longer contain Starscream, but Vigilem.

            That was when Windblade finally saw the truth of what Starscream was—his Spark was not born normally, was _not Forged_ —he felt her horror as she held his Spark and saw his beginnings.   She did not understand “constructed cold” and it horrified her to the core of her very being.   But after a few moments of seeing all that Starscream was, she held his Spark-core close and made a choice that would truly change their lives forever after this moment.

            “Did you forget that **_I_** was here for you all along?”  Windblade murmured, grabbing up a Spark-shaper and setting to work at her makeshift forge—to bring the truth of everything that Starscream was out into the light.

            The true Starscream emerged from the re-forged Spark-core and fought, knocking Vigilem back through the connection into Windblade’s mind—where she trapped him for all eternity.   They both won, but when they were both conscious in the real world again—it was clear that they had both lost _each other_ after this.   Starscream couldn’t even look at Windblade as they spoke of things.   She kept trying to get his optics to focus on her, but he just sounded very tired as he spoke and kept his optics averted from her.   **_He_** knew, even if she didn’t get it, it was the beginning of the end for everything Starscream had tried to do with fixing Cybertron.

            She wound up defying the council on keeping the matter of Liege Maximo a secret.   And while the Mistress of Flame was infuriated and, in essence (though not words), excommunicated her from Caminus—it was clear Windblade was _on her own path_.   Her little friends from the bar all convinced her to throw her hat into the ring—to put herself on the election ballot.   But Starscream had already foreseen this—in fact, he’d actually gone out of his way to make sure she was able to legally do so!

            Starscream was in his office, working on some more plans to revitalize more cities.   His banter with Bumblebee was good-natured and he wasn’t really paying much attention to the details of what his friendly apparition was saying to him until he basically said that Windblade would probably win the elections.

            “I’m going to try to win—that way I can have the mandate that I need to get things moving along again,” Starscream said, seriously, looking up at Bumblebee as the apparition stopped in front of his desk.   “I _want_ to bring back Kaon.   I want to cultivate new hot spots and increase immigration.   To expand trade so we can diversify our Energon reserves,” the former Decepticon Second-in-Command said softly.   “Are you saying **_Cybertron_** doesn’t want that, too?”   He asked.

            Bumblebee tilted his head curiously at Starscream’s intensity.   “What, exactly, did you see in there?”   He asked, softly.

            “ _The true chosen one_ ,” Starscream murmured, thinking of the glorious true frame he’d had for an instant.    He dreamed about it so often now—he dreamed about it in recharge so much that when he woke up, reality had become almost far too painful for him to get up out of the berth and do the work that he so badly wanted to get done anymore.

            The excitement kept getting more and more ramped up as the elections were coming.   Windblade and Elita-One were out there talking to people and setting up their voting bases, but Starscream stayed holed up in his office, working hard on the vision he wanted to create to revitalize Cybertron.   Even though he _knew_ he probably wouldn’t get re-elected—he wanted to hope he could leave this vision behind for whomever came after him.   So he wanted it to be completed by _that time_.

            Everything got derailed when Windblade came tantruming into his office—it was just like the old days and Starscream thought they were long past that.   All he could think of was that Rattrap finally turned over the dark and dirty secrets—which was likely the reason he was gone the last few days.   Starscream looked at the broken holo-display he’d been showing the apparition of Bumblebee of, with the improvements he wanted to make to Iacon and Kaon.   That made him a little sad, because it was almost as if it were a dark portent of a bad future yet to come.

            That passionate fire that Windblade had when she came into the room was so very different when their relationship had already been declared “ _dead on arrival_ ”, in the weeks since that moment their minds were linked with each other.   Starscream hadn’t really wanted it to end—he would’ve liked to have reached out for her when they both came back online after that.   Maybe he could have even _said_ it to her, he felt like he **_could_** have.

            But overall, he knew he _shouldn’t_ say it—she didn’t need to be confused any more than she already was.   She didn’t need to be torn between “ ** _love_** ” and duty—if she even considered that taking over Cybertron was a “ _duty_ ”.

            So, he continued that clean break with her—to let her move on to what she was going to do, overthrow and impeach him, just as she’d said she’d do from the start.   He _wasn’t_ going to hold out on this anymore.   And when the moment came, at the debate—he basically confessed everything that Windblade was going to tell them anyways.  So, where did that get him, in the end?

            _Life in prison_.

            That was actually more than he had really expected.   He had actually expected _execution_ or even exile from Cybertron (which would be like execution in the end anyways).   Maybe Starscream admitting everything on public broadcast had softened what Windblade thought of him when she won?

            “Don’t you already know?”  Starscream asked, looking at her through the bars of the cell.   She’d come in with so many questions for something labelled as a “ _brief_ ” visit.   He stepped forwards as she made a motion to part a few of the electo-bars for a moment, wondering just what she was up to.

            “You know……..I think I do,” she said with a soft smile.   There was a small sound of regret in the tone of her voice.   “ _Good-bye, Starscream_.   Whatever comes next, I know what you chose out there that night.”

            She leaned forwards and pressed her lips to his, placing something into his servo.

            “I know who you _really_ are,” Windblade murmured, pulling away and activating the bars again.

            Starscream backed away, back into the corner of the cell and settled down, looking at the little holo-projector.   He opened the top panel and a familiar-looking frame popped up from the bottom piece’s holographic display.   Starscream smiled, wryly.   It was almost a little painful to see _this_.   To know exactly what he sacrificed in the name of love— _love not admitted, but love all the same_.   He would give up knowing the truth of his core if he could have Windblade back—at least he **_believed_** he would.

            But, then, why _didn’t_ he?   If he had just spoken with Windblade about everything after their shared experience fighting Vigilem—maybe things could have turned out a lot different.   Maybe he could have claimed her— _or she could have claimed him_.   They could forge the new path for Cybertron **_together_**.

            Maybe this little holo-projector wasn’t actually a gift then.   Maybe it was admonishment or punishment, for Starscream not telling her the truth when they had the chance to change things together.   He didn’t need to pull away, he _could have_ …………..

            “And then I’d have dragged her down with me,” Starscream whispered, snapping the holo-projector shut and stared up at the ceiling.

            “Are you sure you would have, though?   I think she’s very strong and if you’d have made the effort, she would’ve stood with you and you could’ve made up for those things with her guidance,” Bumblebee said, his apparition settling down beside the colorful aerial mech.

            “So you kept trying to tell me,” he murmured, very quietly, because he knew the others in the other cells could hear normal volumes of speaking.   “It’s _better_ this way.  _Trust me_.   She doesn’t need to be tainted by my past, her future is very bright.”

            Bumblebee looked at Starscream, worry in his bright blue optics.   Starscream _didn’t_ look good.   It wasn’t just that he looked defeated, he looked _unhealthy_.   He knew that the Decepticon had been working hard—almost non-stop on the rebuilding projects and had barely recharged since the whole election cycle started.   He hadn’t even tried to recharge since being put in the cell.   He stood up and tapped his cane on the floor and then tried to look into Starscream’s optics.

            “You don’t look good.   Should you ask for a medic?”   Bumblebee asked, worriedly.  

            “It’s a transition phase.   You _can’t_ lock fliers up without it affecting them,” Starscream said, softly.   “You need to settle down,” he added, his voice very quiet and even.   “I’m good at adjusting, but it’ll be a few weeks before I’ve adjusted to _this_.   Without the wind…………” he murmured, laying out on the floor and relaxing his systems, even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to recharge yet.   “ _Without the wind_ ………….” Starscream whispered again, very sadly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing crushed me like the end of "Till All Are One", not even all the emotional boomerangs in MTMTE/LL. I really, REALLY wanted Starscream and Windblade together. I wanted love to triumph over all. So, yeah.............the end here is filled with my own personal anguish stuffed into Starscream. *wry laugh*

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also mid-way through the next chapter of "Burn Brightly" and "Words Spoken" (next Megatron/Rodimus 'fic)--those should be finished in the next few weeks. I actually had most of this first chapter of "The Noble Scoundrel" written a few months ago. *chuckle*


End file.
